


Wrong Foot Forward

by LeafAdrift (Sillyleaf)



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Gen, Sewers, Snot, butt-kicking
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-31
Updated: 2018-10-31
Packaged: 2019-08-11 09:38:28
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,847
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16473092
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sillyleaf/pseuds/LeafAdrift
Summary: Post S7. The war is far from over, Voltron will be needed again but for now, some paladins need rest. Some need to heal and others need to figure out how not to be driven insane by boredom or their families.  Pidge is keeping busy and learning new things and sometimes it feels like she's putting the wrong foot forward as if she's constantly off balance.  Even when you've got your family and your spacey friend family to back you up sometimes you just need to kick butt on your own.





	Wrong Foot Forward

Awash in the dim glow of settling embers, a landscape of bent metals and twisted support columns reached upwards into the dust hazed sky. Melted claws of rebar curled from black soot-stained stone arms. The thick air carried the stench of bubbled plastics. 

Nose curling as disgust flashed over her face, Pidge wanted to get out of this place. The scent worse in her mind than the time she ’d been so tired that she forgot to add water to a cup of noodles and had shoved it in the microwave. A mishap that had left the scent of burnt styrofoam and cup noodles lingering in the house for a week. Invasive and nauseating, a reminder of her mistake. 

The green paladin of Voltron wished all of the destruction around her was just an accident. A terrible accident. A supersized ramen cup with no water melting around dry noodles. The scent currently filtering through her enclosed helmet wouldn’t fade for a long time if ever. Earth had been put through a lot. 

Not as much as some other planets her mind supplied. Not for as long, she reasoned. Logic not a comfort at the moment. She wanted to remember that others had suffered more. She needed an objective mind, broken from the reality of her situation, of Earth’s situation. Earth’s occupation had only been for a few short years. No one had been born a slave and died a slave to the Galra. Or they had...but that implication was a bit too dark to tread far into. 

Moving nimbly over debris the green paladin, her armour collecting charcoal smudges, scanned for heat signatures. Fingers deftly adjusted biometrics and scanner sensitivities to account for the chaotic thermal elements of the city. The static cleared away giving a sharper reading of an empty metropolis. The wrongness of the empty voids balled up in Pidge’s chest, lumped in her throat. An almost empty city. Eerie, and unnatural. 

Pidge noted the outlines of figures, gathered together, standing on two feet. Bi-pedal, so not wildlife. They were about three blocks from her current position, the heat image was distorted likely by walls or a shift in temperature. Their movements made blurred aftereffects that blended together. She suspected they weren’t in a building, the closer she looked the more she surmised they were underground. 

“Green to Garrison 5. Looks like there’s a potential grouping of beings underground around Maynard Street and Hoover Avenue. Can’t get confirmation if human or galra. I suspect they might be in the subway system or…” Pulling up city data she tapped through known infrastructure and oriented it over the sector she was swiftly navigating. Narrowing the search area down, she groans when it becomes evident the subway system did not intersect with this area of the city. “Quiznak! The old sewer system. Definitely.” Shaking her head, because of course, she’d have to wade through who knows what! There were some mysteries in the universe that Pidge would rather not solve. 

How she wished this was the first sewer she’d been forced down into. “Heading in to get confirmation on Human or non-human status. Stand-by.”

Iverson’s voice crackled over her comms “Holt! Wait for Back-up. Garrison 5, status?” 

“5 minutes out.” Came a reply from the tossed together support squad Pidge was suppose to meet up with. 

Frustrated, she exhaled through her teeth and kicked at the rubble beneath her feet. A rock rolled along the torn up sidewalk, cracking in half as it careened into a slab of fallen concrete. “Right, I’ll keep eyes on the...oh Quiznak! Change of plans.” 

“Holt? What’s going on. Status?” Iverson demanded, as Pidge’s vitals spiked, heartrate accelerating from rest. 

“ Garrison 5, get here and support me as soon as you can. Iverson that’s either a VERY small galra or a child their pointing guns at. I’ve gotta get in there!”

Iverson was silent for only a second, hesitating as the image of a kid, Katie Holt and the Paladin of Voltron, Pidge interwove in his mind. It didn’t matter which person he thought of he knew both would rush into the fray orders or not. “Quick extraction Holt, Civilian is the priority.” 

A half grin spread onto Pidge’s face. The visor of her helmet refracting the murky red-orange light of the city. “You got it!” 

She turned her attention to her objective, ignoring Iverson as he started ordering Garrison 5 and demanding updates. Bayard in hand Pidge slammed the blade down into the locking mechanism of the sewer access panel, sparks and heat seared their way through the metal and circuitry. Soon, she could curl her finger beneath the thick sheet of metal and with effort pull the access open. Hooking the edge of the access she crawled over the side and slowly descended into darkness, her bayard lengthening until she felt the swish of sludge under her boots. Setting down she flicks her wrist her bayard receding to its ready position. The scent isn’t as terrible down here she thinks. Rotten, stale but not as acrid as above. Or maybe her nose is fried? She preferred to remain ignorant as to what she was trudging through slowly, under the dim glow of her armour’s lights.

Memories of similar circumstances gave her comfort. Lance and Hunk both commiserating as to the grossness of the location. Hunk fretting about alien sewer crocodiles. Keith resolutely trudging onward but failing to suppress a shiver of disgust everytime something dripped down from the ceiling. Shiro trying to abate the situation over the comms, while Allura stiff as a board resolutely did not squeak and nearly collapse backwards into the oozing muck when that planets particular species of rodent skittered across her path. 

But she was alone now. The rats skittering across her path were, in fact, actual Earth rats. The graffiti on the walls was as legible as graffiti tended to be. No translator needed. Out of the 5 paladins, she and Hunk had fared the best after the last battle. Healing up in next to no time. Allura was on her feet but still weary, her energy not yet restored after the last battle. Keith and Lance were conscious, but still needed time to heal. She was thankful everyone was alive and would get better. A few more scars perhaps but scars weren’t in short supply before the battle for Earth and Pidge predicted several more in the future. 

Hunk had volunteered to join her but Pidge had seen the way he wavered. The way he forced himself to look away from his family...Torn between his born family and the family he’d formed in space, between two lives. The memory of her search for her own family, her own conflict had her waving off Hunk’s offer with a smile and some comment about the mission being easy. 

Katie had spent enough time with her family that they were all getting on each other's nerves. It was the best and the worst. Four geniuses in their own rights arguing over basic architecture for the rebuilding of vital data systems. There was work to do and until there wasn’t a pressing need for her father’s genius, or her mother's deftly gifted hands, or Matt’s leadership of his particular rebels...the Holt family was happy to be together but apart for their separate tasks. Family dinner together was special, cherished, long missed but trying to get all their work and projects done in the same space...was frustratingly chaotic and inefficient. Too many cooks or rather...too many geniuses in the lab. 

Yet Hunk had only just located his family, they were still getting some semblance of shelter set up. They needed Hunk, his presence after so long being under galra control. A balm on the wounds. Hunk needed them as well, he needed time with them. 

Focus. She needed to focus. Even if the fight for Earth was over, galra who had crashed on Earth and galra who’d been left behind still existed. Small pockets with the ability to activate sleeping armies of sentry droids. Everything the galra had left behind in Sendak’s rush to leave before its destruction was a weapon for the remaining forces. Until the entire globe could be swept and searched, every corner and tunnel cleared of their influence and gun-toting automatons, a single enemy galra was enough to cause a massacre to people trying to pick up the pieces of their lives. Pidge wouldn’t let that happen and the resistance fighters of Earth wouldn’t either. 

Echoing further down the sewer her hears picked up the distinct wailing of a child. Its cries cut off by the course barking of galra. Slowing her steps Pidge made herself smaller, just another shadow as her lights dimmed to nothing, the heat camera fed through her visor giving her a murky haze of her environment. There was light ahead. Careful to disturb the wastewater and run-off as little as possible she hugged the wall, ignoring the warm sludge that splattered on her shoulder. 

Anyone who says the fear of combat goes away is a liar Pidge surmised. She’d learned, the fear doesn’t abate. Facing one galra is still as scary as the first time, but she’d felt greater fear. She’d forced herself forward in the face of so much more. The fear is there but in comparison to what she’d been through it’s paltry. So it becomes easier to tamp down on the want to run away, the need to do something, to change something has grown. Scared as she is, there’s something stronger than fear that Pidge feels.

There are four galra, scans for other heat signatures show it’s her, four galra and what looks like a 4-year-old maybe 5, she hadn’t interacted with enough kids to know for sure. Nothing she can make note of showed these galra to be anything but typical soldiers. The way they seem to fight amongst themselves is telling. Switching her helmet camera on, she set the broadcast to a short-range encrypted feed. Garrison 5 acknowledged they were picking up the feed. Iverson giving her a play by play as Garrison 5 flew into the area and headed for her location. Repeated ticks of information filed away quickly.

Too long with a kid staring down 4 Galra. Powered on weapon being raised, Pidge had no choice but to move. Adrenaline feeding her limbs, the under glow of her helmet flashing from the darkness. A visage of orange-brown eyes glowing in the shadows. A green ribbon slicing past dim lanterns, lashing out as the tiny paladin sidestepped left and right growing close to the first galra, the one with the readied weapon. Contorting herself, never making a predictable target she kicked a wave of brown viscous liquid at the galra, before he could sputter her bayard encircled his forearm. Flesh began to burn with a sudden electrical current pulsing ruthlessly through his spasming body. A flick of her wrist and his arm splashed into the sewer water. 

Shots grazed her shoulders, a sound ringing too close to her left ear. Inhale. Exhale. Pivoting out of the path of enemy's fire, Pidge whipped her bayard around, sweeping another galra soldier off his feet. Sending him sparling into a big dish of nasty. She heard more than saw the largest of the 4 Galra, take shots from her rear. Not forgetting her priority. Not losing focus, Pidge activated her shield grunting as she stepped in the path of the blasts, slipping backwards on the slick footing. The kid to her back. She moved towards him, Angling to keep him out of the line of fire. Sludge soaked galra and the female, fourth galra began closing in, forcing Pidge back. Using the flat of her shield her arm jerked forward, slapping muck towards the galra, while jumping back the last few steps towards her target. 

She gave a fake smile to the kid, all teeth and tighten jaw. He was literally pissing his pants, so...smiling hadn't worked so well. Mentally noted for next time Pidge moved onto plan B. “It’ll be okay. Oh ummm…. Big Sis is here. I mean...the green paladin...of Voltron. Ya the hero…” How was she supposed to comfort a kid? Kids were Lance’s thing, Hunk’s too. Puffy eyes stared at her with confusion replacing abject misery. That was something at least...

Three Galra left. She could do this. “Touch him and it’ll be the last thing you touch, I’ll do double what your pal got to you.” She sneered as the female galra seemed to move to flank Pidge's side. Obviously trying to get a shot in from the side. Small hands reached and grabbed the plating on her thigh. Little fingers going white with his death grip. Drawing a deep breath inwards, conviction growing Pidge drew her bayard. “Anytime Garrison 5!” She growled over comms. Eyes darting around, a wicked little plan forming. A whirlwind plan that would get a laugh out of Hunk and Lance. Keith might even enjoy the tale too. 

“See… for once I’m better equipped for the terrain. Hometown advantage.” Her bayard fired upwards, tangling and slicing into the rusted piping overhead. A spew of liquid crashed down, giving Pidge a few precious seconds to flick her wrist, to slice in rhythmic stikes through the galra’s weapons, taking a few fingers along with them. Injured and unarmed as they were, Pidge loomed forward, shield planted in front of her charge. With little option but to flee or fight the three galra fled leaving their friend with his severed arm unconscious, and bleeding out in a cesspool of filth. 

“Oi, Garrison 5. Three unarmed galra runners coming your way.” Pidge turned back to the kid. Temari and Milo could deal with those three. 

“God damn Temari, I had him!” A male cursed over comms. 

“Next time be quicker lad.” Temari intoned with a chuckle. “We’ve got them. Belfour will be with there to drag the fourth back in a tick.”

“Got it." Pidge sighed, squatting down to the boy. It looked like he was banged up, filthy as well, but overall nothing too serious. Snot-nosed, and red-faced and the most frightful little creature the tiny paladin would even have to interact with. He readily climbed up and onto Pidge’s back, choking Pidge who flailed briefly until she somehow lowered the super tiny one's vice grip on her windpipe. Save a planet, survive a Quintessence field, defeat a giant Mech TWICE...and die via tiny-human hanging. She shared a look with Belfour. If the giant Belmoran mentioned this incident he would die. 

Tinier human finally got out of the grime and into the safety of an adult human. He cried the whole way back to the shuttle outside the sewer entrance, where thankfully local rebels identified the boy and shuffled him and the galra prisoners off. 

An energy still reverberated beneath the surface of Pidge’s skin. Hot and tight. Anxious to move and be useful. Tempered by the disgusting state of her armour, the smell and psychological feel of the sewer lingering. “Ugh...I need a shower.”

“I think all of us need to be hosed down first...maybe drowned in disinfectant. At least your armour is self-contained...I think my boots leaked.” Garrison 5’s driver, a lanky teenager named Milo. Formerly a freelance rebel on Earth now a hired rebel, part of a squad under the Garrison banner. 

“I told you to put on waders, but you just went and stepped into the doo-doo.” A woman in her late 40’s shot back, rapping her cane quickly and sweeping Milo off his feet with a soft chuckle. It hadn’t taken long to realize the silvery cane Temari used was a cleverly hidden in plain sight weapon. A quarterstaff with little electrodes disguised among some of the elegant filigrees. Pidge snickered as Milo lamented his lot in life from the ground. 

Belfour as he lumbered up behind Temari. "What is doo-doo?" Pidge left Temari to explain the intricate degree of vocabulary that revolved around excrement. 

With Matt and the rebels coming to Earth, aliens had arrived as well. Belfour was a Belmoran, un-related to Shay. Quiet and strong he didn’t often speak but he had a way of just being a ball of adorable curiosity. In selecting aliens to work with and build ties to the human populace he was a good choice. So vastly different from the galra in his nature and mannerisms that many humans had happily befriended him in a short time. Hopefully, that spoke well for the future. 

“Let’s get back to the main base before Iverson or worse Shiro gives us an earful.” Milo started the shuttle, while Pidge hitched a ride only so far as her own hoverbike. Neither transport was a work of art, both shakily repaired with what was on hand. Functional. Whatever could be used was. Earth was in tatters. It’d be a while before fashion for the sake of fashion was in vogue. 

She did have a few upgrade ideas though...


End file.
